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THEW5WOF 

THE 

LITTLEKING 


STORIES TOLD 
AT THE CARMEN 
OE BEAS.'BYTHE 
WAY OF THE LIT- 
TLE KINS IN 
SRANADA:i 50 » 


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This book is one of a limited edition of 
fifteen^ of njuhich this copy is 

No. /tr 


CC!.A28U359 


Copyright, 1910, by 
R. L, T er<williger 













Printed by 

J. C. Feeder Company 
Chicago 




A memorial to 
Gineve Snow Terwillig 
1849-1909 












LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS. 


FACING PAGE 


By the Way of the Little King 

The Gardener 9 

The Ambassador from Tartary 16 

The Stars Came Out in the Dusky Purple Night 27 ^ 

A Holy Man Sat in the Street of the Mosk 35 

King Abu Nasr Sa’d 45 

The Bright Stars Only Made His Sad Heait More 
Gloomy 55 


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CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The Way of the Little King 6 

The Story of the Three Trees 9 

The Story of Kaseem 16 

The Story of the Builder 27 

The Wisdom of the Sword 36 

The Tower of the Luminary 45 

Mohammed and Nadia 65 





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By the IF ay of the I /title Kinyr 







THE\Vi®rSi^ 

"^eaTTLEKlNG 

By the camino del rey chico in Granada, on a ter- 
race against the hillside under the Generaliffe is a 
large old-fashioned house. Its patio and galleries are 
of uncommon spaciousness, even for Granada, and 
the terrace is always verdant with the water from 
the asequia made by the Moors. The windows com- 
mand a most extensive view of the Albaicin hill, the 
Alhambra, and the valley of the Darro, with a 
glimpse of the city beyond in the vega. At one time 
here was the home of the gran capitan, Gonsalvo de 
Cordoba, and the great Cardinal Cisneros lived under 
its artesonado ceilings. Dukes and grandees have 
partaken of the hospitality of the place and its his- 
tory records not a few stirring episodes of love and 
war not lacking in the tragic, and ’tis whispered in 
the Albaicin that more than one granadino can wit- 
ness to uncanny experiences in the bare white-walled 
chambers; stories where the real and the supernatu- 
ral combine to confuse even the most skeptical. 


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However, its glorious days of action and splendor 
have long since gone by. In the course of time the 
old carmen is become the charge of one who keeps a 
tavern where the bridge spans the Darro. In the 
great hall where the terror of Turks once held coun- 
cil, lives a soft-voiced cura, and the children of a work- 
man play all day on the terrace where lords and prin- 
cesses made their parade in the time of the Emperor 
Carlo Quinto. In the patio the margueritas still 
bloom, but save the occasional chirping of sparrows 
or the soft footsteps of alpargatas on the pavements, 
all is now silent, and the old house seems to dream 
in a reverie of its past. 

Here one day came a stranger and made his home 
in one of the galleries overlooking the city and the 
Alhambra. He was from a far distant country, and 
to him Granada was very beautiful. When the moon 
was bright he delighted to sit in the window over- 
looking the garden and listen to the guitars in the 
tavern by the Darro, or the singing of the nightingales 
in the grove by the Alhambra. One evening as he 
sat half dreaming at his window a visitor entered the 
garden. He climbed the winding path up the ter- 
race through the avellanjo trees. His actions were 
as of one perfectly familiar with the place yet withal 
timid and uncertain, and when he stopped below the 


7 


















window where the stranger sat ’tv/as in a hesitant 
voice he thus addressed him: “My good sir, I wish 
you many such evenings. I know you for a stranger 
in Granada and your face is not unkind. As for me, 
while I appear as a man, I am little more than a spirit, 
and for my name, ’tis necessary only for you to 
know I am one who lived in Granada in the time 
of King Boabdil el Chico. My kind fate permits me 
reincarnate to visit my native city once each month 
provided I am so fortunate as to find one here who 
does not wish me ill. I come alone, lacking food and 
money, but ^tis my custom to pay my host with a 
story. From your appearance I take you for a friend, 
and for this night’s lodging in your house I promise 
you a story of the old Granada.” 

The stranger was very well pleased with the 
words of the visitor, who had in every sense the man- 
ners and dress of a nobleman. He invited him into 
the carmen where, when he had refreshed himself, he 
began the following story, which story, with others, 
has been duly recorded in these pages for those whose 
pleasure it is to read of other peoples and older times. 


8 








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The Gardener 





THESTOIOronneTHREETREK 

My friend, the Gardener, on the terrace of the 
Alhambra is a very wise man. He speaks little, but 
thinks much. For hours while his guest I have sat 
with him in the garden, and no word passed be- 
tween us. For the gardener knows the language 
of the trees and flowers. They are enough to one 
whose sense is keen to hear the love song of a mag- 
nolia, or to attend with delight the wedding of a red 
and white rose. His soul is as large as the universe, 
for can he not look from the hepatica under the laurel 
hedge to the snowy mass of the Sierras. And he is 
happy to serve the great power who makes the one 
worthy as the other. So he grows silent with respect 
for Him whose hand has raised the distant ocean to 
yonder towering peaks, yet does not neglect to shape 
the slender anemone to such perfection one cannot 
say which is the greater wonder, the mountain or 
the flower. 

While the Gardener was a young man there stood 
in the garden three trees. One was a Plum tree, 
another was a Fig, and the other was a Pomegranate. 

Planted by chance, they grew and spread them- 
selves almost as one, but that chance which made 


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them near neighbors made them also most hateful 
enemies. And as they grew and increased in size, so 
their quarrel increased in bitterness. The Plum tree 
was forever galling the Fig, and the Fig in turn 
crowded the Pomegranate, and the Pomegranate 
returned the Fig in like measure, and the Fig retal- 
iated on the Plum. In this way several seasons 
passed. Seasons of distrust, aggression and mutual 
distress, till the Plum tree became crooked and cov- 
ered with sharp thorns ; the Pomegranate looked 
coarse and unhealthy; and the Fig stood weak and 
misshapen, which unhappy condition only increased 
their hatred of one another. The cold days of winter 
forced a truce, but when the first warm rays of spring 
were calling out all the delicate flowers, and the first 
buds were starting on the trees, their wrangle would 
be renewed. The Plum tree would say to the Fig: 
“Did anything more useless ever exist than a Fig 
tree? Your leaves are clumsy. Your limbs are 
deformed. You have not yet produced any fruit. I 
marvel you have the hardihood to persist in your 
miserable existence.” Next the Fig tree would say: 
“You are one to speak of beauty — one whose 
branches are so scrawny and covered with thorns. 
Your attempts to appear beautiful are ridiculous. 
One who puts forth flowers before he can supply the 


10 




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leaves to decently clothe an ugly form. And your 
fruit is sour and hard.’^ Then the Pomegranate 
would say: ‘‘You both are correct in your opinions. 
’Tis quite impossible to tell which is the more ugly 
or worthless of the two. I wonder you have the bold- 
ness to intrude your shameless persons into the com- 
pany of one who is the symbol of kings. Does not 
all this proud province acknowledge my superiority 
on its shield?” With this the dispute turned from 
vilification to boasting. Each reciting over and over 
again every good quality any tree could possibly or 
impossibly possess, till all were weary with the argu- 
ment. At last while they waited silent for lack of 
more words, a nightingale came hopping down the 
garden path. When they saw him each tree called to 
him: “Ruisenor! Ruisenor! which of us is the most 
beautiful and useful tree?” The nightingale stopped 
suddenly and looked up out of his mild brown eyes. 
He was thinking how he might add a few notes to 
the song he had been singing for the last few weeks, 
and he was astonished that anyone could be troubled 
with such a question. And when the three trees 
repeated their request, he said: ‘T am happy when 
the morning is scented with Plum blossoms, for then 
I know my love is waiting for me in the avellanjos. I 
am happy when I see the scarlet flowers of the 


11 


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Pomegranate, for then I know I am by the rivers 
and fountains of Granada, where the groves and gar- 
dens are always fresh and green. I am happy to see 
the Fig tree when the summer haze is over the vega, 
for there I know is a cool shadow at noon day.” 
When the trees heard this they were very angry to 
think the nightingale had failed to express a prefer- 
ence for any one of them. So they all joined in a 
chorus of resentful words till poor Ruisenor flew 
away into a hedge and hid himself. For he was by 
nature of a sensitive disposition. Now there lived 
near by a very proud and handsome Cock. ’ Twas his 
delight to strut about under the trees, displaying his 
sleek plumes to his admiring family. The three trees 
next called to him, sa5dng: ‘‘Which of us is the most 
beautiful and useful tree?^’ The Cock placed his feet 
wide apart, threw out his breast and replied with 
ready frankness: “You are all good to eat. When I 
am sated with Plums I like Pom^egranates and when 
their season is passed I can dine on Figs.” This 
judgment pleased the trees no better than that of the 
nightingale, and they reproached the Cock in the 
same angry words. But he only crowed loudly and 
strutted carelessly away. 

Then they asked a snail who perched on the 
branches of the Fig, saying: “Which of us is the 


12 


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most beautiful and useful tree?” The snail was a 
very timid person who never gave anybody offense. 
He replied: “When the weather is dry and sunny I 
am happy under the Fig tree. When the weather is 
wet and dark I can rest on the branches of the 
Plum or the Pomegranate.” When the three trees 
heard this they reviled the poor snail shamefully, 
calling him an unclean fellow whom nobody admired. 
The Fig tree then shook himself so the Snail fell to 
the ground, badly bruising his shell on the sharp 
rocks. 

But one day the Gardener came into the garden 
and stood by the trees. His look was very severe 
and the three trees trcmoled with terror. They ceased 
attractive as possible. But they had abused and 
their quarrreling, and each endeavored to appear as 
belabored one another so long they had quite forgot- 
ten how to be beautiful, and all three presented a 
sorry spectacle indeed. Then the Gardener said : 
“Unhappy and useless creatures, is there any reason 
why I should not destroy you?” 

Then the Plum tree called loudly for the nightin- 
gale, but Ruisenor hid himself deeper in the laurel 
hedge and refused to speak a kind word for the mis- 
erable Plum tree. Next the Pomegranate called 
loudly for the Cock, but that proud fellow only stood 


13 





upon his toes and crowed in derision. And the Fig 
tree hung his leaves in stolid silence, for he knew the 
wounded snail was no friend of one who had treated 
him so rudely. So the Gardener ordered that they 
be cut down and prepared for the fire. And in their 
place he planted new trees in such a manner they 
never had cause to quarrel or to harass each other. 
And they grew and flourished wonderfully, a con- 
tinual refreshment and delight to all who came that 
way. 


14 



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When the visitor had finished this story he took 
his departure from the carmen, promising to return 
when next the moon shone full above the Alhambra. 
He kept his promise, and the month following on his 
second visit began thus: 


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The Ambassador from Tariary 









THE STORYOF KASEEM 

In the time of the Moorish Kings, there came to 
Granada a young and accomplished gentleman 
named Abd-Ben-Sadi. 

Abd-Ben-Sadi took a house on the Albaicin, where 
he lived quietly alone in such style as befitted a young 
man of wealth and refinement. He employed as his 
mozo one named Kaseem, who, while of some value 
as a servant, was by himself a careless and disordered 
person, which faults he combined with great vanity 
and unreasoning envy of the fine clothes and other 
possessions of those more wealthy than himself. 
Kaseem found in Abd-Ben-Sadi a very lenient master. 
Which perhaps moved him to actions he never would 
have attempted in the service of one more stern and 
exacting; presumption which led him through a train 
of unpleasant situations from which he was at last 
released and pardoned by the same good nature 
whose betrayal had been the cause of his discom- 
fiture. It came about this way. Abd-Ben-Sadi had 
gone on a visit to Loja, with intention of staying sev- 
eral days. As he departed he called Kaseem to him 
and gave him twenty silver pieces with which he 
was to provide for himself and the house until his 


16 





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master’s return. Which done he departed, leaving 
his property in charge of Kaseem. 

As for Kaseem, the sudden possession of such 
wealth quite turned his head. Never before had he 
been holder of so much money, and no sooner was his 
master gone than he began to plan in reality what 
had heretofore been only a dream. He had no doubt 
of his ability to pose as a fine gentleman. He had 
often watched his master at his toilet, and was quick 
to imitate all his words and actions. He greatly 
envied those who congregated in the public 
houses to converse, refresh themselves with drinks, 
or to watch the dancers to the music of the flutes and 
drums. The sight of these things and association 
with one so accomplished as Abd-Ben-Sadi had given 
him to suppose their position was that of wealth 
alone. And now that he held in his hand twenty 
large silver pieces he could not forbear the attempt 
to establish himself among this envied company even 
for a few days. So he proceeded to put his foolish 
idea into effect. He opened all the cabinets in the 
mansion, and arrayed himself in one suit after 
another, trying them in every variety of combination, 
until half the day was passed at this amusement. At 
length satisfied with this play, he dressed himself in 
what he thought most becoming and sallied forth into 


17 


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the streets, where he walked up and down before 
those places where the town folks could see and ad- 
mire his splendors. 

When Kaseem^s acquaintances saw him thus 
arrayed and walking abroad they raised a great stir 
and gossip. All of which only served to increase his 
vanity and conceit. So he persisted in his walk quite 
unconscious a bold mule driver had plucked the jewel 
out of his turban; a careless goldsmith touched his 
white shirt with a hot coal, and a knife grinder had 
cut the laces of his vest, while a mischievous butcher 
had hidden a scrap of liver in the lining of his cloak, 
so as he passed along all the dogs in the district fol- 
lowed him in a noisy procession, and whenever he 
stopped a swarm of flies quickly gathered, attracted 
by the odor of the meat. Thus the center of interest 
to all, he crossed the whole city to the Plaza Bibar- 
rambla, where his notoriety began to annoy even 
Kaseem, and to escape from the crowd he entered a 
public house much frequented by gentlemen and 
seated himself among the guests. Here, far from 
finding himself comfortable, he felt very lonely 
among a company all of whom seemed to know one 
another. He would have attempted to join in the 
conversation, but found them talking of things he 


18 



knew nothing about and in words he could not under- 
stand. So he could only order for himself a refresh- 
ment like the others and waited ill at ease. 

While he sat thus silent cind alone two friends of 
his master entered the place, and one of them seeing 
Kaseem remarked to his companion, “Yonder sits the 
coat of Abd-Ben-Sadi, but Abd-Ben-Sadi is in Loja.^’ 
And the other said, “You are right. The coat is the 
coat of Abd-Ben-Sadi, but the wearer is his servant 
Kaseem. The unworthy knave is employing his mas- 
ter’s absence to disgrace his clothes on the back of a 
clown. I have a mind to have some sport with the 
fellow.” So while one of them privately informed the 
company of their intentions, the other, going to a rug 
close to Kaseem, sat down and thus addressed him: 
“Most excellent sir, the peace of Allah be with you. 
May you pardon your unworthy servant, but I know 
you to be a stranger and I may be of service. I see 
by your clothes and face you are a person of distinc- 
tion. I am sure you are that famous ambassador 
from Tartary, whose expected visit has made such a 
stir in Granada. I wish to introduce you to my 
friends that they may hear and enjoy the story of 
your exploits and conquests.” Now Kaseem had 
never heard of Tartary. But, not to be exposed by 


19 














any speech like this, he replied in a manner as 
affected and elegant as possible, signifying his readi- 
ness to meet the friends of the gentleman. Forthwith 
he was introduced with great ceremony to all in the 
room. Bach person, as he was presented, bowing 
down to the carpets in mock solemnity. All the 
while his host was saying, first to one and then to 
another: “His most^ excellent mightiness, the gen- 
eralissimo of Tartary, Captain of the ten thousand 
invincibles. Before his standards comets turn pale 
and the whirlwinds are put to flight; the feet of his 
horses shatter the mountain tops, and the heavens 
rest on the tips of his lances.” This with much more 
of the like till all had met this most extraordinary 
person, the ambassador from Tartary. Then all 
seated in a circle about they began to address him in 
remarks such as these: “Do observe his noble fea- 
tures.'’ “His forehead is like a lion’s.” “Such power, 
such courage; and his eye! Before that glance his 
enemies must die with fright.” “And the elegance of 
his manners, and his exquisite apparel. What ease, 
what grace ; all can see he is a most noble lord. How 
happy we are to be honored by his company.” All of 
this greatly flattered the conceit of Kaseem. And not 
to appear slow in the part they had assumed for him, 
he ordered refreshments for the company and began 


20 






to enjoy the distinction thus thrust upon him. As 
the luncheon proceeded that gentleman who had first 
addressed him brought a cup of new wine which 
Kaseem liked very well. And when they offered him 
more he drank again and again till he was very jolly 
and not a bit surprised when the ceiling opened, let- 
ting down a company of beautiful damsels, who began 
to dance about over the tables in the most fantastic 
fairy-like rhythm to the music of drums and flageo- 
lets — And then the apartment began to expand — It 
grew, and grew till it became a majestic hall with a 
lofty cupola covered with golden jewelry and blazing 
with a great number of red, green, and blue lights 
that swung to and fro, keeping time with the dancers. 
And Kaseem joined in the dance, until he was quite 
dizzy and sick with the whirling round and round. 
He became very tired and wished he could escape 
from the revel, but he seemed to have no more power 
over himself than the lamps that dangled on the 
chains from the ceiling. To increase his distress the 
dancers began to buffet him about, pinching his ears 
and pulling his hair. He meekly endured this for 
some time, but at last began to return the blows so 
the whole hall became a riot, everyone striking and 
biting whoever happened to be nearest. Even the 
lamps joined in the tumult. They jangled and 


21 



crashed against one another till the air was filled with 
a cutting shower of red, blue, and green glass. The 
exposed lights blazed up to fill the gilded ceiling like 
a conflagration, and then he saw Abd-Ben-Sadi at the 
door with the governor’s guard. They seized him. 
All the lights went out. He felt a sudden shudder- 
ing gust of terrible cold and then found himself alone 
in a dark, musty room, clothed only in his short under 
garment and dripping wet. While he stood dazed 
and shivering his uncertain vision discerned the out- 
lines of a door. He ran to it, wrenched it open and 
passed out into a narrow lane. As he stood here, wet 
and half clothed, uncertain which way to go, two of 
the city guards appeared at the entrance of the lane, 
and seeing a man wearing only his undershirt, wet 
and bleeding from cuts and bruises, they started 
toward him, calling as they came. Kaseem, who had 
much fear of the soldiers, started to run down the 
lane, pursued by the two guards, who were soon 
joined by several boys and dogs, all making a hideous 
noise. He ran out of the lane into a long street lined 
with shops. Down this street he fled, pursued by a 
crowd of men, women and children. The occupants 
of the houses along the way, hearing the outcry, ran 
to the windows, and seeing the fugitive followed by 
a great throng of townspeople, seized whatever rub- 


22 



bish was nearest at hand and threw it down upon 
him as he passed. So, nigh crazed with terror and 
shame, Kaseem ran through all Granada from the 
Plaza Bibarrambla to the Albaicin, clothed only in 
his tattered shirt, covered with filth and bruises. 
Terror gave such speed to his legs he distanced his 
pursuers and at last entered the gate of his master’s 
house, where he threw himself down more dead than 
alive. He could scarcely believe he had not come 
through some horrid dream. He did not know what 
had become of his master’s clothes. The twenty 
silver pieces were gone. There was nothing to eat 
in the house. He was covered with wounds and weak 
from exhaustion. In this grave extremity there was 
only one thing he could do. He must send for his 
wife. Now Kaseem was married to a very devoted 
woman named Kaijah. Kaijah worked all day on the 
laundry stones in the Darro. Her earnings sufficed 
to provide for herself and two children, with a little 
over for Kaseem. So when Kaijah found her hus- 
band faint and wounded, she bathed and dressed his 
hurts and prepared him food and drink. When he 
was somewhat recovered, he told her a most thrilling 
tale. “How he v/as set upon in his master’s house by 
three robbbers. How he valiantly defended the place 
till, overcome by numbers, he was beaten into insen- 


23 





sibility. While in this condition the robbers took his 
twenty silver pieces, his master’s finest clothes and 
escaped, leaving him for dead.” All of which Kaijah 
dutifully believed. 

But withal he was in great fear of the conse- 
quences of his folly. Abd-Ben-Sadi might not be so 
easily convinced as Kaijah. And he was foolish 
enough to suppose the price of the lost articles would 
allay all suspicion. So he commanded the faithful 
Kaijah that she undertake double her usual work 
with the purpose of securing enough money to pay 
Abd-Ben-Sadi for his loss. All day and far into the 
night Kaijah knelt on the stones, pausing only to pro- 
vide herself and family with the necessary food till 
she was pale and worn with the work. But ere she 
had secured half the price, Abd-Ben-Sadi returned. 
Kaseem met him at the gate. With sighs and tears, 
and in most sorrowful tones, thus addressed him: 
“Good master, I have most unpleasant news. In your 
absence robbers have entered the house. They have 
cruelly beaten your poor servant, robbed him of the 
twenty silver pieces and taken your richest clothes. 
Behold the wounds I have received of them. But you 
shall suffer no loss through my failure to resist a 
band of such bold and wicked men. My wife, 
Kaijah, has already secured half the value of the lost 


24 




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garments, and in a few days will return you the 
whole.” 

When he had finished, Kaijah, who had been wait- 
ing near by, came forward and offered her savings, 
a heavy packet of copper and small silver pieces tied 
up neatly in her scarf. Abd-Ben-Sadi immediately 
suspected the truth of Kaseem’s story, but when he 
saw Kaijah, thin and pale, and the store of coins she 
had collected at such cost to herself, he Sciid nothing 
more than to refuse the money, trusting that the 
truth would appear in a few days. In this judgment 
he was correct. For he soon learned of his friends 
at the public house the whole story of the ambassa- 
dor from Tartary, even to the sad finale when he had 
become so drunken and unmannerly the keepers had 
asked him to leave the place. He resisted their ef- 
forts to expel him, and they, angered at his quarrel- 
some mood, carried him to a neighboring stable, where 
they stripped him of his fine clothes and threw him 
into a trough of muddy water. Then followed Ws 
flight through the streets, a spectacle enough to set 
Granada laughing for many a day. 

Abd-Ben-Sadi returned to his house and called 
Kaseem to him, saying: “Kaseem, I now know ex- 
actly what happened to you in my absence. I know 
perhaps even more than you know yourself. You 


25 


have told me one falsehood; do not dare tell me an- 
other. Does Kaijah believe you were set upon in my 
house, beaten and robbed as you describe?” And 
Kaseem, prostrating himself in terror, confessed he 
had deceived Kaijah with the same story. 

Abd-Ben-Sadi stood for some time considering 
what he had best do in the matter. At length he 
said: “Not only have you lied to me, who have al- 
ways treated you in the most honorable way, but 
you must abuse this poor woman who is so unfortu- 
nate as to be your wife. Were you to receive what 
justice demands, I would order the governor’s jailor 
to give you the bastinado in front of the Gate of the 
Ears where all Granada could see the conclusion of 
your foolish career. But I prefer Kaijah shall still 
believe you to be an honest man. Stand up, and let 
us hear no more of this.” 

So it was Kaseem was pardoned of his folly, and 
became more than ever convinced of the value of a 
good wife; while for Abd-Ben-Sadi, time wrought in 
Kaseem increasing respect for qualities more than 
silver and fine clothes. Riches he might share with 
no fear of loss to any one. 


26 



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The stars came out in the dusky purple uiy^ht 



THE STORYOPTHE BUILDER 


The bell on the torre de la Vela had long since 
signaled the morning watch when the Moor again 
appeared in the garden of the Carmen de Beas. “I 
beg you, good sir, to pardon my delay,” he said. ‘T 
have been held by the moonlight on the ramparts of 
the kasaba. When I look down on Granada on a 
night like this I am overcome by a flood of recollec- 
tions: memories that go back to the time when the 
queenly capital of Mohammed, the Nasride, extended 
even to that broken wall which now climbs through 
the chumba thickets up to San Miguel, when her 
gates were thronging day and night, and the chant in 
the great mosk never ceased. Many’s the lime I have 
stood on that round bastion and looked across at the 
Albaicin, rising a white mountain, almost phospho- 
rescent in the light, its countless windows softly 
aglow with a myriad of lamps. Only on such a night 
does the picture of what the Alhambra was in the 
time of its splendor come back to me, fresh as though 
I lived again in the days before graceless masters 
had brought its beauties down to poverty and decay, 
’Tis then the spirit of the builder, the architect and 
designer lives again in every mass and outline of 
the structure. I know his stubborn will where the 


27 



tower of Gomeres clings on the steep slope over the 
Darro ; I feel the calm security of the kasaba, crouched 
like a sphinx on the tip of the promontory, hiding in 
its eternal silence the secret of foundations whose 
traditions are older than Carthage. What pomp and 
glory live in the gate of justice? A pride more 
haughty than any monarch on his throne. What en- 
chantment lingers in the court of the mosk and the 
alberca? I forget the wreck of battlements and crum- 
bling tracery: I do not know these strongholds are 
only the shells of a power gone forever; at such a 
time I see only the inner soul of the builder. This is 
no monument fashioned by men. It is a mountain 
whose top is drawn out in angular precipices, their 
barren fronts covering a labyrinth of grottos and cav- 
erns, rich with colonnades of marble and alabaster, 
the arches and vaults ablaze with precious stones. 
’Tis a castle of enchantment hidden away in the fast- 
ness of some lonely mountain range: a dream shrine 
for the favored few where genii watch the gates, and 
all who are permitted to enter become genii them- 
selves. The builder has been dead for five hundred 
years, but his soul lives on in this creature of his 
mind. The elements may crumble the walls and 
towers, the jewels become the spoil of robbers, the 
colors fade on vault and archway, but with decay 
the motive of the designer becomes the more ap- 


28 


parent. Even stripped of its detail, as long as form 
and outline remain, it still speaks of the great purpose 
which always lay beneath every perfection of craft 
or material; the delight of the master in the work: 
the pride of the work in the master. So it stands to- 
day gradually resolving itself back into the forms of 
nature from which it sprung. Indifferent alike to the 
wounds of enemies or the efforts of its friends. For 
in it the power of the creator still lives, and he resents 
interference. 

“I lingered tonight in the court of the aljibes, on 
the very spot where I have often seen the builder, 
standing, silent, erect, a tall gaunt old man, whose 
white beard descended below his girdle. He seldom 
spoke, and then only to his foremen, but his eyes 
gleamed like diamonds from under his shaggy eye 
brows, taking in at a glance every situation and turn 
of the work. For many years the huge castle had 
been growing under his direction, and the work was 
now nearing an end. For years he had been the guid- 
ance of thousands of artisans, till out of a chaos of 
brick and stone and mortar emerged the completed 
structure, the triumph of its age. 

“The whole hilltop was inclosed in a series of 
massive walls and bastions reinforced at intervals by 
towers and fortified entrances. No one knew better 


29 




than the wise builder how to plan the winding ap- 
proaches to a gateway or how to construct the pierced 
battlements for every advantage of defense. On the 
high Alhambra, where the walls approach the base 
of the eastern hills, the towers and ramparts were 
of double strength, with galleries and turrets afford- 
ing place for scores of archers and musketmen. The 
inner walls stood against the stony face of the hill 
itself, making it proof against even the heaviest ar- 
tillery. These walls inclosed quarters for a garrison 
of twenty thousand men, while the massive towers on 
foundations of solid masonry held in their vaults stor- 
age of weapons, armor, food and every sort of pro- 
vision sufficient for an indefinite period. An aque- 
duct from the Darro came down the hills from the 
east, bringing a river of water into the fortress over a 
stone arch, supply for the baths, fountains and fish 
tanks. And should this be cut off by an enemy, below 
the kasaba were extensive underground cisterns whose 
contents of crystal pureness could supply the garrison 
for three years or more. 

“On the side next the Darro the walls are in- 
accessible, so steep is the hillside. At this point se- 
cure by nature from attack was placed the palace. 
Here were grouped about a series of courts and gal- 
leries, every effect which oriental fancy and splendor 


30 











could devise, ’till the Alhambra might be compared 
to a mighty treasure casket whose grim exterior shel- 
tered a marvel of gold, jewelry and precious stones. 
In this work no one was more skillful than the cun- 
ning builder. To him is due that bewildering hedge 
of columns in the patio of the lions ; the long perspec- 
tives from gallery to court, and from court again to 
gallery, where the vista ends in a snarl of tracery 
before a sunlighted garden; or across the emerald 
surface of a pool whose far end reflects some pavilion 
or portico. A revel in every effect known to archi- 
tect or gardener. As his men saw the work grow to 
completion and the wonder of the fabric their hands 
had unconsciously wrought, they came to regard the 
builder as a wizard or some one more than human. 
The woodworkers, who fashioned the artesonado ceil- 
ings and door panels, inlaid with pearl, ivory and 
rich carving; the tile and plaster workers, who cut 
and fitted the azulejo walls and fretted vaults; the 
metal workers, who overlaid the massive firwood 
gates with plates of brass studded with richly 
wrought nails ; all became seized with the spirit of the 
master. Were they not all factors of a great unit 
whose creature was a wonder for all time? Even 
the mule boys, who went for the red gravel in the 
eastern hills, hastened their return to see what new 
beauty a half day’s absence had produced. 


31 


A 


“And now the work of many years was drawing 
to an end. The master’s work was done. The result 
lay secure in the skill and strength of his workmen, 
but the builder was ill and in his mind was a great 
doubt. The people of Granada had always known 
him as an old man, but of late he appeared even older 
than usual. 

“One morning the guard had seen him seated on 
the torre de la Vela. For many hours he remained 
there, quiet as though carved in stone. But ’twas not 
the custom to question the master. 

“While the stars were fading in the dawn he had 
climbed to the tower. There on the high platform 
he had seated himself on his carpet. He saw the light 
blaze up behind the silla del moro, and the mountains 
casting long shadows across the Vega. The swallows 
issued from their nests and circled in a twittering 
swarm over the valley. From the city below, pearl- 
tinted in the shadow, came the first voices of the 
morning and the faint jingle of mule bells, and then 
the long wavering cry of the muezzin. He saw the 
incense rise up from the court of the mosk and drift 
off over the Darro in a thin blue cloud. And the sun 
came down and shone full on the city. 

“He felt the hot wind of noon blowing strong from 


32 






















the Vega, where the highways lay white across the 
blue olive orchards, and far away the mule teams 
marked their progress in tawny clouds of dust. He 
saw the sun descend to the mountains of the west, 
and Granada shimmering like a fire opal; while the 
Alhambra and the eastern mountains glowed ruby red 
in the level rays. He saw the splendor fade on the 
last snowy tip of the sierras, and again the stars came 
out in the dusky purple night. In the starlight the 
builder saw a stranger standing on the tower beside 
him. A majestic presence, of grand and lofty mein. 
The builder knew him to be no man of flesh and 
blood, but a spirit, and he bowed himself and greeted 
him with respect. And the stranger said: ‘You are 
not content; in your face is a great longing; you 
would ask a question. If it be of the future I am 
able to answer, but the answer will cost you your 
life.’ And the voice of the builder was strong and 
even as ever while he replied : T know you to be the 
genie of the future. You know me to be a builder, 
and the work of my lifetime lies about me. I have 
lived in the faith that beauty is the expression of joy 
in labor. I believe the life of a beautiful work is eter- 
nal. I believe the reward of man^s joy in work is 
immortality. If my faith is the truth I am ready to 
die.’ 


33 









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‘‘The stars faded away before the dawn. The light 
blazed up behind the silla del moro. The mountains 
cast their long shadows across the Vega. The swal- 
lows issued from their nests cuid circled in a twitter- 
ing swarm over the valley. From the city below, 
pearl-tinted in the shadow, came the first voices of 
the morning and the faint jingle of mule bells, and 
then — the long wavering cry of the muezzin calling 
the faithful to prayer. The incense rose up from the 
court of the mosk and drifted off over the Darro in 
a thin blue cloud, and the sun came down and shone 
full on the city. 

“On the torre de la Vela they found the builder, 
still seated on his carpet, his face turned toward the 
sunrise; and over his countenance was a great calm. 
The calm of eternity.” 

The moon by this time hung pale and low over 
the roofs of the Albaicin. The eyes of the listener 
had been fixed upon it for some time. When he 
turned to where his guest had been sitting he found 
himself alone. The Moor had gone. In the days 
following he impatiently waited his return with the 
following story, which he called “THE WISDOM 
OF THE SWORD.” 


34 











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A holy man sat in the street of the rnosk 


THE WISDOM OFTHESWORD 


When King Mohammed II of the house of the 
Nasrides ruled in Granada, such was his fame for wis- 
dom and good works, of all the cities of his time none 
were more populous or wealthy than Granada, nor 
in any other capital in Europe could be found such 
a brilliant company of statesmen, soldiers and schol- 
ars as daily thronged the Alhambra, where Moham- 
hed held court in unparalleled splendor. ’Twas the 
king’s custom in council to quote a couplet of his 
own. This couplet is still sung in Andalusia, and for 
those who read the poets the meaning is this: “A 
sword is tempered with oil. A millstone is turned 
by water.” 

Of all the many possessions of King Mohammed 
none gave him such pride and joy as his horse, 
Kahira. Kahira was the gift of the governor of Cy- 
prus, nor in all the land of Spain could be found her 
equal for beauty or speed. And when one time the 
king rode on a journey to Almeria the stony trail so 
bruised the feet of Kahira he sent the horse to a pas- 
ture in the Vega where the earth was soft and the 
grass abundant. Thither he dispatched a messenger 


35 



each morning, who daily brought him tidings of his 
favorite. 

Now there was in the country an unattached 
knight named Hassam-Muri, who while he main- 
tained an appearance of honor was secretly a most 
accomplished rascal. The sight of Kahira filled him 
with such covetous desire he lost all fear of the king’s 
vengeance and contrived by night to mount the horse 
and ride to a secluded place in the high sierras, where 
he hoped to keep his prize till a time he could sell 
her without great risk to himself. 

The king’s grief and anger in the loss of his horse 
greatly affected a soldier of his guard named Malek. 
Malek was very strong and skillful with his weapons, 
and on several occasions King Mohammed had taken 
notice to personally commend him. For this he the 
more desired to increase himself in the king’s favor. 
So daily he would stand in the mosk and pray to 
Allah for wisdom that he might discover the king’s 
horse and punish the thief. Every day he would pass 
along the way to the mosk with a heavy heart, for 
Malek was only a soldier and prayer was a great 
trouble and worry to him. Every day he would 
pass along the way from the mosk, his garments 
damp with sweat of his great effort, and when five 
days had passed with no answer either of a sign in 


36 


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daylight, or a dream by night, be began to believe 
something must be wrong in the manner of his 
prayers, either in the words or attitude, so he was 
in despair, knowing not what to do. 

Now a holy man sat every morning in the street 
of the mosk. ’Twas his custom to cry all day: 
“Allah! Allah! Allah! Your servant is very holy! 
Allah! Allah! Allah!” For this all the people of 
Granada paid him much reverence, for he was a very 
holy man, and could bring the displeasure of Allah 
upon all who ignored him as well as those who 
mocked him. Malek had thought of the holy man, 
but the holy man must have money, and Malek did 
not like to give his money without sure return. For 
this reason he had till now passed by on the other 
side, but this morning he walked to where the holy 
man sat and thus addressed him: “Good man, tell 
me where is my master’s horse and who it is has 
stolen him; for five days I have prayed in the mosk 
with no answer and I am now in despair.’^ 

The holy man ceased crying, “Allah ! Allah ! 
Allah!” and said: “Five days have you prayed in the 
mosk — give me five broad silver pieces and every 
morning I will pray for you; if no answer is given 
me by the end of the fifth day you need pay no 
more.” So saying, he held out his hand and Malek 


37 





gave him five broad silver pieces and went away. On 
the fifth day it chanced his duty kept Malek late; 
when he came to the street of the mosk the holy man 
was no longer there, so Malek went away, his heart 
filled with bitter disgust, saying, “He is dining on 
my last silver piece.” He returned to the castle, 
where he had no sleep all night for his impatience. 
With the morning he went again to the street of the 
mosk and waited. When the holy man came to his 
seat by the wall he saw Malek and bethought him 
of his prayers, saying, “And have five days gone by?” 
And Malek hid his bitterness and said, “Truly, my 
good man, five days and one long night.” Then the 
holy man turned his eyes up toward the sky, and 
Malek turned his also that way. He saw only the 
clouds above the housetops, but the holy man said: 
“The way lies along the Genii. Go follow in the way 
of Allah, and his servant for one more silver piece 
will pray for his blessing.” This put Malek in much 
distress, for he had paid the holy man his last silver 
piece and had no more for the blessing. He could 
only promise to pay as soon as he had the money, and 
went away much troubled lest his word prove less 
potent than silver. 

All day he rode on the winding way along the 
Genii, meeting nothing but the trains of mules and 


38 














their drivers coming down to the Vega. Near sun- 
set he stopped in a small grove of oaks where the 
way was so stony and steep his horse could no longer 
follow it, and throwing himself down on the ground 
slept soundly for weariness. With the morning he 
knew no horse could be taken farther that way and 
turned him back toward the Vega. As he rode down 
he saw a handsomely dressed and mounted knight 
turn into the trail and ride toward him. The knight 
was mounted on Kahira, and the heart of Malek beat 
with joy to see the answer to his prayers, and he re- 
proached himself for the bitter thoughts he lately 
held against the holy man in the street of the mosk. 
As he approached, he carefully eyed the stranger. He 
was a tall, strong man much like Malek himself, and 
fully as well armed, which moved Malek to address 
him with some ceremony. Forthwith he stopped in 
the way and called to the stranger thus: “Sir, were 
it not for your mount I would take you for an honest 
man; but I surely am not mistaken when I say the 
horse you ride is Kahira, the pride of my master. 
King Mohammed in Granada. You will dismount 
and give me your weapons, for you are not to leave 
this place save as my prisoner.” Now Hassam-Muri, 
for such the strange knight was, replied thus: “My 
good sir, I know you by your arms to be a king’s of- 
ficer. Even though I were able to overcome you in 


39 




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combat I am not the man to raise my sword against 
the servant of King Mohammed. I am surely the 
victim of some fraud, and your honor as a soldier 
will see I am done no injustice. But yesterday I pur- 
chased this horse for one hundred and thirty silver 
pieces of a man in A1 Lancha on the edge of the 
Vega, and your honor permitting I will ride with you 
to the place and assist you to secure him.” Malek 
heard and was much impressed by the manner and 
words of the stranger, whose whole appearance was 
one of noble quality. He consented to the strange 
knight’s proposal and together they rode back toward 
Granada. 

Malek found Hassam-Muri to be a most enter- 
taining fellow and he listened with interest to his 
stones and jests till they came to the fields about A1 
Lancha, where the Genii runs forth into the Vega. 
Here they came to a place where several woodcutters 
were working in a grove of alamos. Hassam-Muri 
pointed to one of these, saying, “Yonder is the fellow; 
I will bring him out to you.^’ So saying, he dis- 
mounted, walked into the grove and thus addressed 
one of the woodcutters: “You wicked thief, I have 
come to arrest you in the king’s name. You have 
stolen his favorite horse.” Whereupon he seized the 
hapless men and led him into the road, meanwhile 


40 



reviling and cursing him in most violent words. Here 
Malek spoke to him thus : ‘'Is it true you have stolen 
the horse of my master? If so ’twere better to con- 
fess at once rather than wait the torture King Mo- 
hammed will put to you.” Now the woodcutter’s 
name was Selim and he was a very loyal subject. 
He knew well what had come to others who resisted 
the king’s soldiers, and beyond denying he had stolen 
the horse he refused to say anything, such was his 
terror and confusion to find himself in the power of 
two armed men. All the while Hassam-Muri was 
sa3nng: “See, the guilty wretch confesses his crime 
by silence. What have you done with the silver 
pieces I gave you?” When Selim, wondering at his 
words, refused to answer, Hassam-Muri dealt him a 
blow on the head so he fell down on the road, and 
when he would rise dealt him another, so he lay for 
some time as one dead. Now, it so chanced Selim 
had one hundred silver pieces concealed in his hut, 
the savings of his lifetime. He, poor man, supposing 
himself in the clutches of two robbers who desired 
the money, in hope of saving his life consented to 
lead them to where he had hidden his hoard. When 
Hassam-Muri saw the purse he seized it eagerly and, 
pouring out the money on the ground, began to count. 
Malek saw there were one hundred pieces and said, 
“You told me one hundred and thirty.” Whereupon 


41 



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Hassam-Muri, turning to Selim, cried, ‘‘The cunning 
rogue has spent or hidden them!” Wherewith he 
again dealt him a cruel blow on the head, but Selim 
refused to say anything more. He lay on the ground 
moaning and waiting for them to kill him. So Has- 
sam-Muri proposed they bind him and lead him into 
the city. Malek agreed, and taking the leather thongs 
of his harness, together they bound the arms of Selim 
behind his back, Hassam-Muri assisting with many 
expressions of abuse and contempt. When they had 
nearly done with the work Hassam-Muri said : “And 
now, good sir, I have helped you secure the thief. I 
wish you continued success and much reward for 
your good fortune.” So saying, before Malek could 
reply he stepped behind a high cactus hedge and dis- 
appeared. Taken by surprise, Malek too late saw 
the trick the polite Hassam had played him. He 
sprang after him into the cactus, but go which way 
he would could find no trace of the fugitive, till at 
last weary with the search, his clothes and body torn 
by the sharp thorns, he found himself with nothing 
more to do than conduct his master’s horse and his 
prisoner into Granada. 

Great was the joy of King Mohammed to see 
Kahira, but when he saw the prisoner he could not 
believe this crippled, broken old woodcutter could 


42 



take a horse so fiery and proud as Kahira. With this 
in mind he carefully questioned Malek in the matter 
and Selim, to see the king’s mood was not unkind, 
found his tongue. With the tears running down his 
face, he told of his encounter with Malek and Has- 
sam-Muri, till he came to where Hassam had bidden 
them farewell. Here the king with disgust turned to 
Malek, saying, “And now, my valiant hunter of old 
men, where are the hundred silver pieces?’^ And 
Malek could only bow his head and say, “Great Lord, 
they are with Hassam-Muri behind the cactus hedge.” 

And so it was the king’s horse Kahira was re- 
turned to him, but Malek lost what favor he had 
with his master, who was careful thereafter to keep 
him under good direction. As for Selim, whom Has- 
sam’s blows had cruelly injured. King Mohammed 
made him tender of the aqueduct, which is a labor for 
much faith but little strength. 


43 



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When the strange Moor came again to the Car- 
men de Beas ’twas in a sad mood he began the follow- 
ing story. A story closely linked with melancholy 
recollections of his country’s downfall. 




44 
























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THETOWEROFTHELUiyilNMQr 


In Granada, that most beautiful city of Andalusia, 
in that part of the Alhambra called the Kasaba are 
two towers. One is called the torre de la Vela, the 
other has no name, but if one should ask the people 
of Granada, some will say, ’tis the tower of the prison, 
others will say, ’tis called the torre de la lumbre. 

When King Abu Nasr Sa’d ruled in Gfanada he 
was fortunate to retain as his physician a most 
learned doctor of Constantinople, named Ciponitus. 
Ciponitus, while born a Greek, was not a Christian, 
nor could any one say what religion he had. On such 
matters he never held discourse, and if sect or creed 
were ever mentioned he always turned the conver- 
sation to some other matter, but always in a way to 
avoid offense. In truth, Ciponitus was of such pleas- 
ing manners and address that not only did he enjoy 
the respect of the king, but his popularity among the 
citizens of Granada was such his walks through the 
city were a continuous ovation, and in all the district 
around Granada no one was more esteemed for his 
good nature and manly bearing than Ciponitus. Now 
King Abu Nasr Sa’d had a minister named Ali-Zagri. 
While Ali-Zagri had much fame as a lawyer he was 


45 















otherwise a person of very little worth, and the popu- 
larity of Ciponitus gave him most consuming jeal- 
ousy. For this he secretly waited a favorable mo- 
ment to do him what harm he could. So it happened 
one day while the king and Ali-Zagri were walking 
on the ramparts at sunset they heard in the city be- 
low the loud noise of music and the clapping of 
hands. The king inquired of Ali-Zagri what was the 
occasion of this celebration. Ali-Zagri answered : 
“Your physician Ciponitus is passing through the city 
from his country house, and receives of the populace 
homage which is due only to kings. Your Majesty’s 
patience is the marvel of all the princes in the realm. 
Every one says Ciponitus is more respected than 
yourself. ’Tis well your Excellency be most watch- 
ful of the actions of this man lest he use his popu- 
larity in an insurrection against the throne. Even 
now he may be accomplishing his end by slow poi- 
son.” This speech greatly disturbed the king, and 
Ali-Zagri, who was keen to see the effect of his words, 
in the days following lost no opportunity to further 
turn his mind against the physician, which put Abu 
Nasr Sa’d into a great torment of suspicion and dis- 
trust. So it shortly happened at a tournament in the 
city, the king and all his household being present, 
Ciponitus received more applause than even the king 
himself, which so angered Abu Nasr Sa’d, that even- 


46 



ing he ordered his physician to be secretly arrested 
and confined in the prison of the Kasaba, while he 
considered what course he had best pursue. 

His uncertainty of mind so distressed him his un- 
easiness was manifest to his queen, who, taking ad- 
vantage of his mood, obtained from him the cause. 
Her advice was to immediately release Ciponitus, but 
Abu Nasr Sa’d was not fully convinced of the Queen’s 
argument when he left for his council chamber, where 
his minister, Ali Zagri waited him. Ali Zagri thus 
addressed him: ‘‘Hail, King! Live a thousand 
years and bowed him down in the most humble 
manner. With perception common to his kind, he 
had guessed, from rumors about the city, what had 
become of Ciponitus. With this in mind, he thus 
addressed the King: “Your Excellency has been wise 
in placing Ciponitus where your city is safe from his 
seditious influence ; but to confine him is not enough ; 
he must be put out of the way.” This speech of Ali 
Zagri filled the King with more confusion than ever. 
He had taken Ciponitus in the most secret manner 
possible, and the thought that anyone knew or 
guessed the secret was most disturbing. He felt in- 
creased respect for Ali Zagri and less confidence than 
ever in his own counsel — so without more thought he 
replied to Ali Zagri, asking his advice. The minister 


47 


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answered thus: “It is very necessary to the peace 
and order of the realm that Ciponitus be put out of 
the way.” Abu Nasr Sa’d replied: “True, I fully 
agree with you; but do you mean I am to put him to 
death without trial? Even now the people have 
guessed his fate, as you yourself bear evidence, and 
the effect will be troublesome. I have waited many 
days, hoping to discover in Ciponitus some small 
fault. I have employed agents to take him in some 
indiscretion, but he is everywhere so strictly ordered 
with himself I can no way find how I can publicly 
destroy him.” Ali Zagri replied : “Most mighty 
Prince, ’tis not necessary to conceal matters from 
the people. We have Ciponitus in prison. We will 
exact from him a promise to leave Granada ostensi- 
bly of his own free will, and he is not the man to 
break his word. When he is gone from the city, I will 
send two trusty men to follow and kill him at what- 
ever place they find best. They will bring back to 
your Majesty the right hand thumb of Ciponitus as 
the proof. Let us go to the prison, get his written 
oath over the thumb mark of the right hand, and 
leave the rest to me.” The King was overjoyed to 
hear this, and highly praised the wisdom and politics 
of his minister. Together they straightway took them- 
selves to the prison of the Kasaba. There they found 


48 









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Ciponitus in irons in the deepest and darkest dungeon 
under the great tower. The King thus addressed 
him: “Ciponitus, this is indeed a sorry day that com- 
pels me, your lord and master, to order your confine- 
ment for such wicked and treasonable conduct. I 
have always given you my every confidence. ’Tis 
thus you now repay my kindness. I can order you 
immediately killed, but my magnanimous generosity 
grants you shall be spared your miserable life. You 
are to give me over the seal of your right thumb the 
promise to leave my realm as on a journey of your 
own free will, never to return.” To this Ciponitus 
replied: “Most powerful Prince, ’tis indeed a sorry 
day when my good name is become the occasion of 
my downfall. I call on all powers of Truth to wit- 
ness I never wished anything but good to you or your 
people; but since unhappy fate has so ordered it, I 
can only thank your Majesty for the mercy and for- 
bearance shown me. I am willing to take the oath 
your Mightiness in mercy would have of me, and beg 
to leave with you ere I depart a most precious gift 
as a small return for the many kind words and favors 
received of you. The nature of this gift I will disclose 
after I have given my oath.” So the King ordered a 
paper and seal, and Ciponitus signed with the thumb 
mark of his right hand. This done, Ciponitus asked 


49 


for a small empty earthen lamp such as those used 
by the watch at night. When this was brought, he 
placed it on the floor before the king and thus ad- 
dressed him: “Your Majesty, I now go on a long 
journey. I will never see you or your realm again. 
Where I go I know not, but this I know: whatevei 
good I have done you and your nation can never die; 
whatever of evil, will surely follow me go where I 
may. Your Majesty will leave this small lamp here 
in the center of this great tower. When I am beyond 
possibility of ever troubling you again, a small flame 
will sprout from the lamp. This flame will have such 
vitality it can never be put out.” Having said this, 
Ciponitus took his departure from the city, ostensibly 
of his own free will, amid the sorrow and lamentations 
of the people. Now, when he was some distance 
away, near sunset, two emissaries of Ali Zagri over- 
took him where the trail ran along the edge of a high 
cliff. Here they killed him with their swords, cut off 
the thumb of his right hand, and threw his body into 
the river below. The assassins then returned to Gra- 
nada and delivered the thumb to Ali Zagri, who 
brought it to the King. When King Abu Nasr Sa’d 
saw the thumb, he exclaimed: “Ah! now at last I 
am rid of this man, let us see how well he keeps his 
promise!’^ And together they entered the dungeon 


50 




in the tower of the Kasaba. There they found the 
lamp, and, as Ciponitus had promised, over it hung 
a steady flame of intense brilliancy, as though held 
in some unseen hand. The King and his minister 
were greatly pleased and diverted by the pretty sight, 
and that others might admire his possession, the King 
brought a great company of his most eminent lords 
and soldiers to see the wondrous flame. With many 
jests and laughter they amused themselves for some 
time in their efforts to extinguish it, and all joined to 
congratulate the King in possessing such a miracle 
while he inwardly felt the most complete satisfaction 
with himself in the way he had compassed the death 
of Ciponitus. 

Now the lamp lighted by Ciponitus had a power 
peculiar to itself. Its effect was to make everyone 
who looked at it discontented and rebellious. Not 
many days had gone by before Ali-Zagri, the minis- 
ter, was caught in a very treasonable act and con- 
demned to death. This was followed shortly after- 
wards by the open mutiny of one of the most trusted 
captains of the castle. This was put down, only to 
bring new rebellion in the provinces. These disorders 
so alarmed Abu Nasr Sa’d he dared not sleep for fear 
of assassination, nor eat his food lest it be poisoned. 
His miserable condition excited the utmost solicita- 


51 













tion of his Queen, who finally obtained from him the 
whole story of Ciponitus. Her womanly perception 
at once guessed the secret of the magic flame Her 
advice to Abu Nasr Sa’d was to completely close with 
heavy masonry every door and window in the tower. 
Since the lamp could not be quenched, it could be 
hidden. But by whom? There was only one man in 
all his realm Abu Nasr Sa’d could trust with :he work* 
That man was himself. And so, secretly by night, the 
King left his royal couch, put on the garments of a 
laborer, and with his own hands for many monthi 
worked to block every door and window in the dun- 
geon. When he had done, weary, bruised and peni- 
tent, he was a broken, miserable old man, hopeless in 
the knowledge his labor had been in vain, for those 
who were not rebels believed him mad. The mutiny 
that flame had started in the minds of his Princes 
grew and grew, until fate took the kingdom from him, 
and his children were exiled from the land. 

Half a thousand years have since passed on the 
tower of the Luminary. The storms of many seasons 
have worn its battlements away. Its flanks are rent 
by earthquakes and stained by floods. Blind, gagged, 
sullen, it still stands like some great cliff rather than 
a structure raised by human hands; the dominion of 
its founder has long since passed away. Stranger 


52 










captains have come in the land, and prince has suc- 
ceeded prince, yet to this day ’tis said the lonely ca- 
brero on the mountedns of Granada, in the cold rain 
of a stormy night, clinging with bruised feet in the 
thorns and rocks of the hillside, will turn his eyes 
toward the Alhambra to catch a momentary glimpse 
of that magic flame, and the peasant woman bearing 
the burden of a thousand generations yet to come will 
pause in the chilly hush of a winter morning to see a 
strange light shining on the tower of the Luminary. 


53 



The Moor on his sixth visit found the stranger, as 
usual, waiting on the balcony, and without delay be- 
gan his sixth and last story. 


54 






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The bright stars only made his 
sad heart more gloomy 


MOHAMMED AND NADIA 


The morning sun shines warm in the camino del 
rey chico. The first flower buds are showing pink 
on the almond trees; the tall poplars on the ramparts 
are growing soft with a delicate green, and even the 
cold gray branches of the figs show signs of life. The 
old aduano sits in front of his lodge by the wayside. 
He is very happy, and his face is glad with smiles as 
he says, “No more cold rain; no more wind and cloud; 
for the springtime is here. The moros have returned 
to Granada!’’ He points to where the great pink and 
gray tower stands against the clean blue sky. I see 
only two swallows circling about the battlements in 
an ecstasy of delight. They have come from their 
winter home in Africa, and the springtime is again 
in Andalusia. 

When Boabdil reigned in the Alhambra, his Queen 
had in her household a princess named Nadia. Nadia 
had seen sixteen summers, and was very good and 
beautiful, for a time of great happiness had come to 
Nadia. She loved a young knight named Mohammed, 
and Mohammed also was very happy to know he was 
loved by Nadia. Mohammed had seen nineteen sum- 


55 




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mers, and looked proudly forward to the time when 
he would win great fame in the service of his lord. 
He confidently longed for the battle, when he could 
enter the field with his master’s army and bring back 
to Granada the proof of his fitness to marry Nadia. 
Every evening Nadia would come to the tower in the 
wall of the Alhambra, and Mohammed would stand 
below — and Nadia was glad to only know Mohammed 
was near, and Mohammed was happy to know his 
lady waited for him. 

But there came a time when there was weeping 
and distress in Granada. A Christian king and a 
great army had come into the land, and the King of 
Granada could not stand against him. Boabdil and all 
his household must leave Granada forever. So it was 
Mohammed came one evening sad and forlorn to the 
tower in the camino del rey chico. The bright stars 
only made his sad heart more gloomy, for never again 
would he see them shining above the Alhambra; and 
Nadia wept, her tears falling on the face of Moham- 
med, and bitterly he cursed his sad fate, saying, “Alas, 
dear Nadia, the swallows will return to Andalusia 
when the winter is over, but for us there is no re- 
turning; God finds a place for even the birds, but for 
us there is no place under heaven.” At dawn Mo- 
hammed departed with his lord for Africa, and Nadia 


56 




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followed in the train of King Boabdil. There she 
found shelter in the castle of a lord in Tangiers, where 
her hands were heavy with the work at the well and 
the looms. Her fair face ever grew more wan, and 
her eyes large and weary, for she thought only of 
Mohammed; and when the spring returned she would 
set up her loom on the rocks of the seashore, where 
the swallows were passing out over the water toward 
the far-off coast of Spain — and she longed to follow 
them back into Andalusia, and each day her longing 
grew stronger, till one day Nadia disappeared, nor 
could any one say where she had gone — and they 
talked of her for a day, and then no more. She was 
forgotten. 

Mohammed folowed his lord to a far distant coun- 
try many days distant to the east. Here his lord died, 
broken-hearted with the loss of his city, and Moham- 
med was left among strangers. Here were none willing 
to lend what aid they could to the young knight, but 
rather took advantage of his distress to rob and abuse 
him. So he lost his courtly bearing, and the necessity 
which forced him to do the coarse work of the fields 
soon wasted his handsome face and deformed his 
body. The thought of how imlovely he would now ap- 
pear to Nadia made him sullen and miserable. So 
when his companions, released from their toil, sought 


57 



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the nearby villages to sing and dance with the women, 
Mohammed would walk lonely along the seashore to 
watch the swallows flying across the wide water to- 
ward Andalusia. And it happened one day as he 
watched them his longing to return home became so 
strong he could no longer stay in Africa. His master 
the next morning could not find him in the barley 
field, nor had anyone seen him in the orchard — and 
they talked of him for a day, and then no more. He 
was forgotten. 

But the Gireat Spirit of Life had not forgotten. 
He had seen the distress of Mohammed and Nadia, 
and had changed them both into swallows. So it came 
to pass one beautiful morning in Granada, in the ca- 
mino del rey chico, a handsome swallow, strong, swift 
and shining in his spring feathers, came to the tower 
where Nadia once waited for her knight. The swal- 
low was Mohammed. In the tower he found Nadia, 
and they built them a home in the corner of the bat- 
tlements — where Nadia was happy to feel her little 
ones stirring in the warm nest, and Mohammed was 
happy to soar about all day on his strong wings. 
When winter came, they journeyed to Africa — but al- 
ways with the springtime they returned to Granada — 
and they lived their lives, and their children after 
them have always found a place for one more pair 


58 


of lovers in the palace of the Alhambra — for in the 
kingdom of the swallows there are no wars and expul- 
sions, nor kings who count their victories and the 
slain, for the Great Spirit of Life has made them all 
princes. 

And when the sun shines warm in the camino del 
rey chico, and the first flower buds are showing pink 
on the almond trees, while the tall poplars on the 
ramparts grow soft with a delicate green, and even 
the cold gray branches of the figs show signs of life, 
some morning the old aduano waiting before his 
lodge will say, “No more cold rain, no more wind and 
cloud — for the springtime is here. The Moros have 
come again to Granada.” And the Christian is glad 
to see the exiles return, for he knows the Great Spirit 
of life has given a new promise to the earth. 


59 


■i 



With this the visitor finished his sixth story and 
went his way. When he returned, there was no one 
to welcome him to the Carmen de Beas. The stran- 
ger had departed from Granada, and the Moor now 
looks for another friend in the camino del rey chico. 



60 






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